


oh, but what if we fly?

by SOMNlARl



Series: i am the heart that you call home [1]
Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Boys Kissing, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, cardboard sledding can be treacherous, dorian can never resist cillian's puppy dog eyes, not all snowdrifts are soft, that one in which dorian hates the cold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:05:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SOMNlARl/pseuds/SOMNlARl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's the cliches that cause the trouble, dorian finds. because now he knows that it <i>isn't</i> falling in love but flying. </p><p>alternately: in which dorian has never gone sledding, cillian is horrified and sometimes you just need to kiss your tevinter boyfriend in a snowdrift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, but what if we fly?

**Author's Note:**

> based on a lovely piece of art by [atardisinskyrim](http://atardisinskyrim.tumblr.com). i loved it so much i had to write a little something to go along with it. to see the art go [here](http://xhermionedanger.tumblr.com/post/134211653129/atardisinskyrim-7-cold-amatus-nah). 
> 
> you can find me on tumblr: xhermionedanger

“Wait. You’re joking.” Cillian stopped short, turning so quickly to stare in disbelief at Dorian that he nearly fell on a patch of ice. “You’ve never gone sledding before?”

“Really, Amatus.  _Really_? Do I look the sort of man to willingly throw himself off a snow-covered cliff while clinging to nothing but a few wooden boards for dear life?” Dorian huffed as he chafed his hands together, shivering, the bags at his feet all but forgotten.

“And might I remind you that this is the first winter I’ve had the displeasure of experiencing. You might be accustomed to trudging through the endless, frigid… wet. But I am not. I was raised someplace  _civilized_. I was raised for better things than soggy, frostbitten feet and…” Dorian cut off suddenly, flinging the length of his scarf back around his neck with so much violence the fringed end flew back into his face.

Cillian snorted, choking back a laugh as Dorian fixed him with a glare that might have been withering if Dorian had not also had a snowflake delicately balanced on the tip of his nose. He shouldn’t find it funny, Dorian looking equally furious and miserable, but he so closely resembled a wet, angry cat that Cillian couldn’t help but smile.

“I think… well, that’s… a bit hyperbolic, Dori. It’s just sledding, not a suicide attempt. Children do it, how bad can it possibly be?” He raised a hand to Dorian’s face, thumb lightly brushing away the snowflakes that had collected on his mustache before stroking the line of his jaw.

“ _Children_ , I will have you know, eat insects and other ghastly things for fun among other disgusting pursuits. And as far as I know…” Dorian grumbled, sputtering as Cillian kissed the very tip of his nose. “As far as I know sledding  _is_  nothing but a Southern synonym for a suicide attempt.”

* * *

 

Dorian woke with a groan to the curtains thrown open and early morning sun streaming across his face, the light even harsher for mirroring off the thick blanket of freshly-fallen snow outside. He buried his face into his pillow and pulled the comforter up over his head to block out the light.

A sudden weight dipped on the mattress next to him and he whined indignantly as the blankets were pulled down and icy air invaded his warm cocoon. He cracked an eye open to find Carrick curled by his feet and Cillian perched on the edge of the bed, bright-eyed and grinning wildly.

After six months Dorian knew that look far too well. It never meant anything but trouble.

“Morning love,” Cillian said brightly. “Sleep well?”

“Wonderfully until I was so rudely awakened,” Dorian replied, frowning as Carrick crawled up the bed towards him and nuzzled a cold, wet nose against his jaw.

“Amatus, must you let your mongrel shed and drool all over the bed?” He yawned as he curled back up under the blankets, hand blindly grasping for the comforter but finding nothing. He sat up, glaring accusingly at Cillian who was far too awake for this early in the morning.

“A mongrel? Dori, how could you!” Cillian scolded in mock horror, leaning over to ruffle his hair. Dorian halfheartedly made a move to duck back under the covers but stopped with a happy sigh as Cillian trailed his fingers softly through his hair.

“You hurt Carrick’s feelings,” Cillian continued and the dog took a moment to stare unwaveringly at him, big brown eyes full of sad accusation, and howl sadly before he stood, shook himself off and jumped off the bed.

“Alright, fine,” Dorian hissed, holding out his hand in defeat for Carrick to sniff, pulling a face as the dog delicately licked his fingers then turned away, nails clicking as he stalked out of the room in search of breakfast. “He’s not a mongrel, he’s a very good dog but what in Andraste’s name do both of you want of me at this hour?”

“I wanted to show you something,” Cillian replied. “Please? It’s important… I even made coffee.”

Three cups of strong, double-brewed coffee later found Dorian protesting the layers of clothes he’d been forced into as they left the apartment, Carrick whining with excitement as Cillian clipped on his lead.

* * *

 

“Amatus, is this really necessary? I’m dying,” Dorian complained with a huff, watching as his breath crystallized in front of him and dissipated. Cillian’s fingers threaded through his own and a small smile quirked at the corners of his mouth despite himself. “How far away are we going?”

  
“Not far,” Cillian called as he took off in a brisk jog. “Just over that hill, come on!”

Dorian cursed under his breath as he ran to catch up, stumbling as he waded through snowdrifts until he reached the top and stopped short.

“No. Absolutely not.” Dorian stared at the sight ahead of him; Cillian kneeling by a large piece of cardboard perched precariously at the highest point of the hill, Atticus holding onto Carrick’s leash as he scratched the dog’s ears.

Atticus grinned. “I can’t believe you actually got him out here, Cilli.”

“No one can resist my charms… don’t pretend you’re immune.” Cillian smirked as Atticus blushed and knelt down to hide his face in Carrick’s fur, muttering something under his breath about obnoxious blonds and why on earth they were friends.

“Dori?” Cillian grinned hopefully as he sat on the makeshift sled and patted the space behind him.  

“Are you completely mad? Never mind, don’t answer that. There is absolutely no way you are getting me on that thing. It’s a deathtrap!” Cillian’s face fell and even before he finished protesting Dorian sat down behind him, arms wrapped tight around the blond’s chest.

“Just know, Amatus that if you get us both killed I will come back and haunt you. I promise you that.”

“Ready?” Cillian asked. Not waiting for an answer he leaned forward and the sled tipped, Dorian tightened his grip and buried his face in the back of Cillian’s neck. His whisper to  _hold on tight_  was lost in the rush of the wind and Dorian’s shouts, more exhilaration than fear.

The world blurs around him, already a haze of white and snow kicked up by their momentum flying around them, as they pick up speed and it’s incredible - like flying must be - Dorian thought as his heart stuttered high and quick in the back of his throat, his breath ragged.

The next thing he knew was a tangle of limbs and weightlessness, the makeshift sled too clumsy at steering to avoid a snowdrift and the rise sending them flying.

Dorian landed first, his breath stolen by the sudden impact and just a few seconds later Cillian was half-sprawled across his chest. As the blond opened his eyes they were on fire; full of life and flashing with joy, like lightning dancing across the night sky and he wondered if he looked the same. He found his answer in Cillian’s waiting smile and leaned down to press a kiss across his mouth; once, twice and again until he’s flushed - bright-eyed - a soft touch of the man’s lips moving across his jaw to nibble at an ear his reward. Their kisses are soft, featherlight and Dorian can’t mind the slow seep of cold through his jeans as the snow melts under them.

“Oh, for the love of… Can you two  _not_ , seriously?” Atticus complained as he slid down the base of the hill and Dorian scrambled to sit up, blushing.

Cillian laid his head in Dorian’s lap and grinned.

“Ugh, fine! I’m taking your dog home, he doesn’t need to be seeing… this.” Atticus turned with a huff, whistling for Carrick to follow as he stomped up the hill.

“He’ll get over it,” Cillian shrugged. He bit his lip, gaze clouding. “Did you… was it fun? Was I right?”

Dorian trailed his fingertips through Cillian’s hair, twisting the curls teased by the wind back into place.

“Was it  _fun_?” Another kiss and more, softly peppered across Cillian’s skin. As he pulled away Dorian arched an eyebrow. “Does that answer your question, Amatus?”

Cillian smiled, sighing happily as he closed his eyes and curled closer into Dorian’s lap.

Dorian stared down at the blond, shivering. “As lovely as this is… aren’t you cold, Amatus?”

Cillian looked up at him, soft-eyed, his hand cupping Dorian’s jaw to pull him in for another kiss. “Nah… not with you. Never with you.”


End file.
